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Save it.

Music.

It’s 2:03 in the a.m., I’m not a fan of the usual textual breakup when I try and write verse. So forgive the formatting.

It’s 2:04. I am alone. When last you saw me, when last I came into this little space it was a manic version of myself. Bristling with anger, and sadness, fear- like a hedgehog. Defense mechanism. Lashing.

Better will come hard. I have no disorder. I can not empathize. Nor soothe, sufficiently. It’s 2:06, and I ain’t been to the beach in a while, but I’m not ready to rewrite certain memories.

It’s 2;06, and I could cry, because it has been very easy to do so, and I like it. I don’t mind it, bringing myself to the brink at every moment of the day, constantly reminded. Pricked. Bristling.

I feel, after the wedding of my sister. I felt the shadow of marriage lurking- the reality of it. And now it’s the spectre of divorce, & kids. I’m going through the motions of changing diapers and fearing debt and disappointment of not being the best mom, of not being Pinterest worthy. Of all the suburban shit.

.

I vibe through my family. Me and dad fight, but banter, but without the separation anxiety. I’ll make him proud yet, but he’ll have to face how I’m willing to do it. Hell and high water. 

& Mom writes. Someday I’ll flex this space. Someday they’ll see their son. I can wait. 

.

But I very much am my sisters. And now I have brothers. And I have gained more brothers. 

& i can still feel dreadfully alone. 

.

And right now I’m.not the best son. I’m not the best anything. And maybe you’ll see me trying, and give me the credit. Maybe the people who should see it aren’t- but does it change much?

.

And someday my family will deal with this space. With my _____, or otherwise. Someday they’ll have wanted to know who I really was, even when I barely was. 

.

It’s 2:15 and I still can’t sleep. 

& making peace with it.

Because someday you won’t be able to sleep either, they won’t be able to sleep either. Some day it’ll help to know it’s never really any easier.

So save it. 

Because this is still something too. 

So save it
& Be present.

 
 
outro

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Diary of Repair

The Long Goodbye

It is 5:30 in the a.m. and I am curing a screen, about to drive it to the local car wash to try and power wash it through, because this is the 4th set screen and 4th goddamn attempt and if the methods I have tried so far are still futile then yes I will need to adapt and improvise.

It is 5:30 a.m. and the same fear is slowly growing in me. The terror, I should clarify.

When she came down on the weekend of my sister’s wedding, (had I mentioned that?) I got night sweats. Twice in the middle of the night I found myself completely drenched in what my immediate fear was nocturia- before realizing the total body extent of my expressed anxiety.

;

I feel it in me already

Like little AJ wailing incessantly

Succumbed to separation anxiety.

.

.

.

I can’t divine whether the level of honesty I excrete on here could be considered as valorous as it can be qualified infantile. There again by my conundrum, “But it reads a little desperate. Like you’re gasping for air and swallowing pride.

…Absolutely. You don’t write like a scorned lover. There is a tenderness.

.

And maybe that’s enough.
So long as this is never read with mal intent,
that all these lacerations are inwards facing,
barbed jabs to keep you out
like giant two story black and yellow Caution signs
trying to maintain the strictest, starkest
black and white communication
that this hurts.

;

.

.

I don’t think I like this pain. I think it’s fair to say (and agree) that whatever relationship she and I have was a heavily twisted one, that began from an abused power mechanic in it’s infancy that has warped to longstanding emotional S&M game a decade long.

It can very much be argued I bring it on to myself (for the sake of the human condition!), yes I do believe all power exists and resides in me to make positive change; & i think (know) that’s where the terror stems, facing that irrefutable, how absolutely broke we are.

& I wish we weren’t
& I know we won’t be forever.
I’m counting on it.

.

.

.

.

can we not just end the book here?
how many times this kid gonna break his own heart
this year?

no, the rest is just epilogue really.
it actually ended quite a while back.

hmmm/ guess all those tapes are non-canon.

i don’t know
and who’s got the energy
to want to know?
just let them rest in peace.

.

 

e-.

-end transmission-

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Diary of Repair

Post Fabiola.

I guess this is what having Twitter is for.
Man is it busy at Menil

Guess this is the LA part of Houston. 

 .

so much street wear

;

God , judging couples at the park like this is so much fun. The You’re The Worst part of me is just curled up with depression watching it.

;

The Houston part of me wants to be a yoga couple too.

Right outside

The Surrealists.
;

Yeah I’d rather spend my days alone with hou.

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Diary of Repair

Buried Nude

in some other girl
but the feeling’s passed
and let me tell you where i thought of you

some hours passed:

♪♪

Hey, A.
Hey, B.

Hey, M.

Let me tell you how I feel about
L.

;;

Let this song be a guide
(switching shirts)

Let me tell you
I just realized
V. stroked right down my breast.

;

Let me tell you
that it straight up
goddamn hurts
saying bye.

But what I –

“Did you make it home okay?”

-Yes I did. Lying in bed now, home safe.
-Guess E______ don’t gotta pay that thousand bucks. Phew.

“Well sort of…Now he is going to use that money to go to the game.”

-Sick
Once in a lifetime kind of deal.

I’m home safe. We can talk about it later, tomorrow.
Goodnight.

.

.

Letters home.

.

.

.

.♫♫

 

♫♫

..

.

.
Why am I phantom married to you?

;

I can do whatever the fuck I want.
Isn’t that the reality
I left for you too?

Just don’t tell me about it?

;

 

—This might be how she felt at the Hungry Octopus,
drugged out out her mind.
With the entire room swirling and the pressure not to make
the bedsprings squeak;

And on the ground was a copy of Woman’s magazine,
as if there were pointer’s she need take;-
I know when I first arrived
I talked to her like a springboard for my fetishes.

-and felt wronged…

;

I felt the room spin as much as it must now,
the entire world on some wrong axis,
marginally misaligned
like a gyroscope nearing it’s peak
kinetic-
force.

Maybe, something like that.
something like morning sickness might have felt
where the whole world’s topsy turvey
where you can’t believe you’ve let yourself into this situation-
like something I can’t quite explain,
please, _, lend your voice:

.

_________________________
__________________________________________
___________________________________
____________________________________________________
____________________________________________________
____________________________________________________
______________________________________________
_

.

I feel sick
like a sickness i brought on to myself
because I must really love feeling this sick;

enough to subject myself to it

for ——–8<—– — – — – — — –

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..

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..

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hmm.
pretty good night
i must have had.

hm.

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Diary of Repair

Under the Radar

I went with Chiptuner to a house show once.

Test. Test. 

Is this getting out there? 

My dog, if I were to bring her, my dog were she here

Would probably never stop barking

At everything as an invading object.

;

Paranoid machine-

I’ve been a bad-

.

I thought Stranger Things 2 came out on Halloween. 

But you know what,

Ive learned not to expect to line up Netflix Cues.

Because fuck you.

.

Can you be surprised at all

I don’t want to hear about __.
You can sense hate from a minute away.

I’m not afraid of you hating me

And you shouldn’t fear me hating you,

But I have no qualms about burying.

.

I don’t think ive seen anyone

In the past month? Two years?

That didn’t have bags under their eyes.

– I remember seeing her gray hairs

And loving her more for it.

But Ceci N’est Pas Amor.

;

Don’t think highly of me.

;

Fuck do you realize I know too much about Houston coffee

Fuck i barely care//

But it’s a vein I can drink from. 

Ya feel?

;

I don’t smoke, I’ve stopped, but damn is it nice to have a spirit 

And let myself since for the hour.

;

You want to talk God?

I go eight uncles and aunts on my mother’s side alone

That preached that good gospel news.

I was insulated with the suffering of the Israelites,

I feel qualified to act out.

;

Fuck that 2 Out in the bottom of the seventh.

;

My right eye is worse than my left,

So when trying to watch the game

From across someone else’s breast,

I have to decide which is best to shut.

;

We’re up 4 still at this point. 

;

I can watch this goddamn game

And admire the girl

In the glasses by the door

With the golden retriever mutt

Clapping at that out.

. Whatever helps.

;

Yeah you the think I didn’t think about marriage?

Yeah you think I don’t have enough resources to steer me away?

;

Top of the Ninth.

;

Hey dog.

We’re going to the world series. 

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